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When you’re born and raised in the Northeastern United States, December usually means snow, ice, and wind, in no particular order. I knew moving to Florida would mean a much warmer Christmas, something I was looking forward to. After complaining for years about the long, cold winters, I would finally be able to leave the house without three layers of clothing, boots, hat, and gloves.

The last couple of winters have been particularly brutal with heavy snowfall and very cold temperatures. I lived in an apartment with no garage and spent quality time digging my car out from under a lot of snow and scraping ice off the windows. It required an extra thirty minutes in the morning and I was cold, tired and wet when I got to work. I dreamed of living far enough south to not have to deal with this issue anymore. I dreamed of Christmas lights strung through palm trees.

So, imagine my surprise (and mild annoyance) when I read the weather forecast for my home state of Pennsylvania predicting temperatures in the 60s for Christmas week. That’s unheard of and I’m thinking to myself, “Sure, I finally make the move to warmer weather and warmer weather makes the move to PA.”

Some folks back home are actually whining about not having a white Christmas and that it feels more like Easter weather. Others I’ve spoken with are quite pleased that Old Man Winter hasn’t found them yet.

I guess this means I’ll have to hold off on sending those postcards I bought: the ones that are split in half with the left half picturing a blizzard and saying “You,” while the right half shows a tropical sunset and says “Me.”

I have to admit though, with Christmas only a week away, I’m feeling a little homesick for home…and snow.

 

 

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Christmas…Present

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